


Where We Slept Last Night

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: New pain meds mean Yaku hasn't been able to stay awake long enough for sex. He asks Kuroo to give it a go anyway.





	Where We Slept Last Night

"Wake me up when you get home." 

This is the instruction Yaku gives before Kuroo leaves for work. 

Kuroo plans to arrive home around five in the afternoon, six at the latest. 

Usually, Yaku would be awake under his own power at this time, but a non-usual event happened two weeks ago. An accident involving a steel bookcase and Bokuto's impatience, Yaku's left foot and a trip to the hospital, ended with Yaku being given a large bottle of pain medication. These pills have been leaving Yaku drowsy by the middle of the day, and knocked out cold in the late afternoons.

Yaku's a deep sleeper in general, but this is something else entirely. After falling asleep in front of the television last night, Kuroo made a pretty loud show of lifting Yaku from the couch, waiting for him to wake up and bellow in protest. Instead, he kept sleeping, expression untroubled, legs swaying with each movement in Kuroo's arms. Not even a twitch, not even when Kuroo deposited him on their mattress.

In two weeks, Yaku has not managed to stay awake any significant amount of time in their bed.

In two weeks, they have not fucked. 

Kuroo agrees that he will wake Yaku up when he gets home, and the intense look shared between them makes it clear. 

_By any means necessary_.

Kuroo's later than he expects, nearly six thirty, so he's not surprised to find Yaku already in bed. 

"Yaku," he says, lifting the blanket. Then he glares.

The asshole is wearing one of Kuroo's shirts. 

This is pure manipulation on Yaku's part, insurance to make sure Kuroo does as asked, as if Kuroo didn't have enough motivation on his own. Kuroo drinks in the rare sight – the shirt is a little small on Kuroo, short sleeved, but on Yaku they're long enough to rest against his elbows. Kuroo wants to fuck him while the fabric droops down over one shoulder.

"Yaku," Kuroo tries again. 

"'Surou," Yaku mumbles, reaching out one wobbling hand, trying to find Kuroo without opening his eyes. He lands on Kuroo's arm, and tries to tug him closer. "Nng."

Kuroo goes along with it, climbing on to the bed and smiling at this adorable display. As soon as Kuroo gets close, though, instead of waking up, Yaku starts to fall asleep again, nestled comfortably against Kuroo's neck.

"Yaku," Kuroo says.

"Tetsurou," Yaku answers, forcing his eyes open, then fumbling forward for a kiss, digging his hands in Kuroo's hair clumsily. 

It's like being mauled by a sleepy koala. It's cute, but not exactly arousing. "Morisuke," he laughs, petting the hand in his hair, then pulling it away gently. 

"No," Yaku huffs, trying to fight off Kuroo's grip. "Come on – I want it – "

"Really?" Kuroo asks, shifting his thigh against Yaku's warm crotch, which remains soft and uninterested.

Yaku groans, really annoyed now. "Yeah."

"Okay," Kuroo says, and rolls on top, pushing him against the mattress. As he hoped, this stills Yaku, keeping him in place for long, thorough kisses. Yaku goes along with this, closing his eyes and moaning, until it keeps going, and going, and Yaku realizes he's being distracted. This is also when the medication redoubles its grip on him, dragging him down, so he can only whine pitifully into Kuroo's mouth, fingers in Kuroo's hair weakening, until they drop to the mattress.

And he's asleep.

Kuroo leans back, looking down at his boyfriend. 

Yaku's taste is in his mouth, and he can still feel the faint scratches his clumsy grip left behind on his scalp. His body had been warm, familiar, and eager beneath him, and his dick is having a hard time figuring out that the party's over.

Kuroo sighs, crawling out of bed, to jerk off in the bathroom. 

~

"What was that??"

The next morning Yaku scowls at him from across the pillow. 

"What?" Kuroo croaks, not sure if he's still dreaming.

"I wanted to fuck," Yaku says. "Why'd you stop?"

"Are you serious?" Kuroo says, and tries to laugh but his throat is still too thick with sleep and it comes out odd. "You were falling asleep, Morisuke."

"I was enjoying it."

"Until you were _literally_ asleep."

Yaku frowns, not happy with this answer.

"What'd you want me to do, fuck your unconscious body?"

Yaku's face goes red.

"… Morisuke?"

Yaku rolls away, showing Kuroo his shoulder, defensively, but Kuroo follows after, leaning over his body to look him in the face. 

"Seriously?"

"I would've woken up again!" Yaku says, rolling even further to escape, hiding his face in the pillow now.

The thought had honestly not even entered Kuroo's mind. 

Kuroo considers – having sex with Yaku while asleep, seriously, and – isn't sure how he feels about it. He can tell that Yaku does feel very, very strongly about it, though, enough that he's curling into a defensive little ball of embarrassment. 

"So you want me to keep going?"

He's expecting a denial, but either Yaku is feeling especially frustrated or brave today. He looks up from the pillow, just enough for Kuroo to see his eye. "Yeah."

"Alright," Kuroo says, and slumps down from where he's been straining to hold his weight, and Yaku grunts in surprise. "Tonight. I'll keep going."

"You could," Yaku says. It's pretty rare for him to avoid eye contact. This is what he does as he stiltedly suggests, "not. Wake me up."

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, wondering now about the shirt. Had that been an attempt to entice Kuroo to start without him? 

"I could," Kuroo agrees, slowly. This, he's less sure about. 

He's seen some porn, some weird stuff. Not just molesting a sleeping person, but all types of fantasy scenarios that allow a person to grope still, helpless bodies. This neither appealed or repulsed Kuroo. Sex for him is pretty solidly linked to his partner's reactions, and without it, his interest dwindles.

Still, he can give it a shot.

Their apartment is quiet and dark when he comes home the next day for round two. He takes his time in the kitchen, pattering around, the dark shape of their bedroom door across the way suddenly a very ominous, looming presence. 

A bed's inside there. 

Yaku's laying on it. 

Kuroo heats up the ramen Yaku pulled together for dinner, and leans against the counter, looking the door dead on, eating slowly.

There is always a degree of competition between Yaku and Kuroo. They're not high schoolers anymore, they don't dramatically jostle for position to be first in line or have the last word in an argument, so most of the time it's unspoken, a subtle undercurrent that would be undetectable to most. 

But even now, even after five years of living together, Kuroo knows exactly what that mild, narrow eyed grin on Yaku's face means when Kuroo is the first to admit he's cold and drag out the kerosene heater in winter. And Kuroo doesn't have to say it, at the end of the year, when they're going over their taxes, and they both look at the totals and see Kuroo's made about 20% more than Yaku.

 _I win_.

So it's in this way, this very, very small, competitive way, that Kuroo realizes he's been holding himself back.

In their bed, Yaku is unconscious. 

Kuroo turns on the light to their room and sees Yaku on his side, curled slightly, breathing in, then out. 

Gentle, far gentler than he typically handles Yaku while awake, he tips Yaku onto his back. Yaku's body rolls with the movement, limp, arm dropping heavily to the mattress. 

Kuroo takes a step back, undoing his tie, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, admiring Yaku on the bed in a way he wouldn't if Yaku was awake. It'd be a white flag of surrender: _you captivate me entirely_.

But there are no witnesses here. Kuroo is free to do as he pleases, be as infatuated as he likes, and once undressed, Kuroo climbs onto the bed, hovering over Yaku on his hands and knees. 

Yaku's face is shifted slightly to the side. Kuroo's eyes trace the round, soft shape of his cheek, the smooth, round arch of his forehead. 

His ear. 

Impulsively, Kuroo bends down and bites it, softly. It's small. Feeling – weirdly obsessed, maybe it's bad to be this obsessed with another human? – Kuroo bites down a little harder, enough to leave a mark, and tongues along the shape of it. Yaku shivers, shoulder and neck moving at once to give Kuroo more space there, but his brow scrunches like he's not sure if he likes the sensation. 

Kuroo moves down. Head to toe. Inspecting. Neck. The smooth lines, soft skin. He smells clean, smells like sleep, the fabric softener on their sheets, their soap. He must have taken a shower before going to bed. 

Warmed up to the idea now, Kuroo is careful as his hand travels under Yaku's shirt, resting on Yaku's lower stomach. He keeps watching Yaku's face as his touch travels up - it's a weird thing to feel Yaku like this, to explore him like this, without his watchful, expectant, impatient gaze. 

Bending, Kuroo lifts Yaku's shirt, and kisses his belly button, then kisses above that, a trail of Yaku's skin up to his chest. When he explores the thin, velvety skin of Yaku's nipples, Yaku squirms, breath hitching high, but does not wake.

Feeling bolder, more confident, Kuroo pulls Yaku's shirt up, sliding it over his head, and his arms lift then fall with the motion, flat against the mattress as Kuroo tosses it behind him.

He's still asleep. 

Kuroo licks his lip, looking him over - it's almost an innocent kind of excitement overtaking him, like Kuroo's discovered something new, a secret just for himself, land uncharted and unknown, ready and waiting for Kuroo to stake his claim. Even the idea of touching Yaku's small feet and hands has become something thrilling and erotic, somehow brand new. 

"God." He presses Yaku's fingers against his lips. The sound of his own voice in the quiet room surprises him. It does not, of course, surprise Yaku. His face stays lax. "God. I'd do anything you said, Morisuke. Do you know that?"

Yaku might. But it's a difficult thing for Kuroo to even admit to to himself at times - that really, the game could end the moment Yaku decided. That they compete, but truthfully, all it would take is for Yaku to say the word, and Kuroo would fold. Give him everything he has, after begging for the privilege. It's a little terrifying, frankly, but not in this moment.

In this moment, with Yaku defenseless and soft, Kuroo feels like this could be something honorable. Like Kuroo is vowing himself to him, to a higher cause. 

"I'm crazy about you," he breathes this secret into Yaku's throat, scraping his teeth down the soft skin, watching the pink lines appear. Yaku's hips shift beneath him, and Kuroo realizes he's gripping the fleshy area enough that his nails have started to dig in. He pulls back. Reorients himself.

Yaku stated clearly that what he wanted most out of this was to wake up with Kuroo's dick already in him. 

Being able to touch and explore Yaku freely like this is heady, and it's gotten Kuroo hard enough that he's a few touches away from his cock leaking, but remembering his endgame here brings back some of that stage fright. 

Feeling heat on his face, Kuroo decides to just - go for it? 

A little awkwardly, he lifts Yaku's legs out of the way, sliding into place, mouthing at Yaku's still soft dick. Below that, he spreads Yaku's cheeks apart with both hands. Yaku's ass is small, but has always been soft, even while his thighs were all firm lines of muscle in high school. Kuroo can, and has, spent quite a bit of time in the past groping it, digging his nails into it, smacking it, watching it shake. The feel of it beneath his fingers is familiar and tempting, and what Kuroo focuses on as he gets out the lube, slicking up his fingers. 

He expects this to be the moment Yaku wakes up, with a jolt and a cry of confused outrage. He's so relaxed, though, that the spread is easy. Just faint, reflexive resistance, and Kuroo groans low in his throat, imagining how good it's going to feel to fuck into this: Yaku's body wet and warm, inviting and open like Kuroo's only felt after they've had a round earlier that day. 

It's habit at this point to do what Yaku likes best: a few distracting strokes of his prostate. He does, and watches Yaku's hips jerk, muscles tense for just a moment.

"Oh," Yaku sighs, softly. 

Kuroo looks up – Yaku's unconscious, head flopped to the side, expression pink, mouth open.

Eager to see it again, Kuroo presses against that spot, and it's a full body, shivering response, " _ah_ ," Yaku's breath hitches again. 

Keeping in mind Yaku's request, Kuroo forces himself to ease off, continuing to work Yaku open. He's pleased when he sees Yaku starting to stiffen between his legs, rising slowly, and Kuroo encourages this, wrapping his hand around the warm length and pumping, until it's heavy enough to flop back against Yaku's stomach, firm and ready. 

Yaku's mouth is shaking, chin pushing higher in the air. He's clearly fighting for consciousness that's just out of his grasp, and Kuroo shifts into position, planting his hands on either side of Yaku's pillow. He pushes in, making a low, pleased noise at the sensation, just as good as he imagined it be - perfect, soft around Kuroo's length.

"Kuroo," Yaku breathes. Kuroo jerks in surprise, and doesn't know how to react when he realizes it was said in Yaku's sleep. Yaku feels it, and it's become instinctive, the knowledge of who would be touching his body like this, making him feel this good.

Kuroo sinks deeper into Yaku's body, which is starting to tense slightly, but still relaxed and ready, warm and wet around his dick, welcoming like Yaku's hole wants him in there.

"Kuroo," Yaku cries again, this one more coherent, almost worried sounding. When he finally blinks open his eyes it takes him a beat to track Kuroo's features, pupils blown and dazed. 

"You okay?" Kuroo asks, holding in place, surprised at how broken and deep his voice sounds.

"Yeah," Yaku says, but his voice is still distressed and Kuroo doesn't quite believe him until he shifts his hips, trying to take Kuroo in deeper. "Oh. God. Kuroo. Keep – keep moving."

Kuroo can do that. 

This position is easy, though Yaku's legs are usually wrapped around his waist, making it even easier – and Yaku attempts, weakly, for a second to do just that, but can't seem to manage. He settles for laying open and pliant beneath Kuroo, while Kuroo lifts his hips up and back, then drives in, forward and deep.

Yaku cries out, eyes falling shut.

Kissing through this makes it obvious how precarious Yaku's grip on consciousness is, his lips losing their tension beneath Kuroo's, then coming back moments later, moaning louder each time, louder than Kuroo is used to, open and unashamed of showing his pleasure as he can do nothing but take it.

Kuroo had imagined Yaku lying lifeless and limp like a doll. He wasn't prepared for these drawn out moans, the way Kuroo's thrusts travel through Yaku's body, his entire body jostling with the motion, unable to stop it.

The idea hits sudden, and Kuroo's acting on it immediately – pulling Yaku closer to his chest, he rolls, until he's on his back and Yaku is laying on top, blinking and looking impossibly disoriented. 

"Nng - fuck," Yaku says, struggling to push himself upright. 

Feeling excited and wild, Kuroo shakes his hips once and watches Yaku bounce, and lose himself completely. This is one of Yaku's favorite positions, mounted on Kuroo's cock and controlling just how fast and how hard he's impaled. Obviously he can't do this now, moving in weak jerks to get what he wants, straining from the effort this takes, and the disabling waves of pleasure each time he manages.

After watching this erotic show as long as Kuroo can stand, he grips Yaku's hips, holding him steady, and fucks up into him. 

"Oh – oh – " Yaku's moans are short, high, he's barely able to open his eyes, and his arms shake as he attempts to keep from collapsing. 

"Holy shit," Kuroo groans, low in his throat, unable to believe just how good the sight is. Yaku's body bounces without resistance, he's crying out for Kuroo, hanging his head before forcing himself to look up again with glassy, dark eyes. "Yakkun, holy shit."

When Yaku reaches his limit he crumbles, arms buckling, then dropping to his elbows against Kuroo's chest. It changes the angle Kuroo's fucking him to something that has him moaning with his entire body, and collapsing fully against Kuroo. He stares up at him with wet, dazed eyes, a desperate, open mouthed frown.

"Is this what you wanted?" Kuroo asks, rocking his hips up ruthlessly. "Wanted me to use your body like this?"

Yaku gasps out broken attempts at Kuroo's name, and Kuroo holds him where he wants him, right there, seated and mounted on Kuroo's cock, as it thrusts up and up into him. 

Yaku comes, pressing his cheek against Kuroo's chest and moaning brokenly, hands in fists, toes curling. He's shivering through it, and seconds later, still impaled on Kuroo's cock, he's out.

Kuroo stills, watching another moment to make sure, but Yaku is definitely unconscious. 

Shifting upright, Kuroo lifts his knees, and tips Yaku backward. 

Yaku's body drops against Kuroo's thighs, head thrown back, legs parted shamelessly, showing his softening, spent dick, the wet mess smeared against his stomach, and the pink, abused hole Kuroo is currently shoving himself into. 

Hands on Yaku's hips, Kuroo watches his dick disappear into Yaku, again. Again.

"Fuck," Kuroo murmurs to himself. It's a sight he's seen countless times but still leaves him speechless. Pleasure is cresting inside him and he follows that urge, snapping his hips faster and harder, and groaning quietly as Yaku's breath catches with each thrust. God. _Good_. Fucking good, Yaku – _good_ , is his caveman-like thoughts, watching Yaku's eyebrows pinch upward, even in sleep. 

Kuroo comes, gritting his teeth, thrusting in once, hard, and holding there, letting the sensation travel up and down his body, relishing the electric, sharp feel of it as he spills everything he has into Yaku.

Fuck. 

Kuroo thrusts just a few more times, jerky and impulsive, and Yaku's body shakes with each movement.

God.

Kuroo swallows, and slowly, carefully pulls out. 

Yaku gives a small, distressed sounding huff, and Kuroo keeps one hand behind Yaku's head, the other around his waist, helping him settle against the bed, as if he's too fragile for anything rougher than this, having to be handled with care.

He kisses Yaku's cheek, reaching for the cloth – his skin is humming in a way that would appreciate a bath, and holding Yaku against his chest just now would feel especially good, too – it's tempting, but as he weighs it against his exhaustion, he decides not to bother. 

Kuroo cleans the mess up, pausing over and over again to kiss Yaku's face, his cheeks, ears, nose, forehead, mouth.

"Kuroo?" Yaku asks, blurrily. 

"The one and only," Kuroo says. 

Yaku whines, arching his back, pulling Kuroo forward again. "That was good," he says.

"Yeah."

Yaku sighs happily against his mouth, and they kiss, sloppy, lazy necking. 

"Sticky," Yaku mumbles, nose wrinkling. "We should take a bath."

Kuroo grins, suddenly re-energized. "Whatever you say."


End file.
